


Godspeed ya boy

by girlwithabird42



Series: Once more for the ages [1]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 14:01:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19870801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithabird42/pseuds/girlwithabird42
Summary: Victor Sullivan didn't want to be a father.  Sully and his kids through the years.





	Godspeed ya boy

While half the things the kid’s saying sound like grade-A bullshit, Sully can’t deny they’re compelling. He’s made it through his cigar and the kid’s scraped his plate clean by the time Nate’s done explaining Drake’s secret mission.

“That’s quite the story. The nuns really filled you in on a Protestant monarch’s schemes?”

Nate purses his lips. “I put it together myself.”

The kid’s lying again, but there’s no way he’s working for anyone. Katherine would have already dealt with any serious rivals.

And if Nate’s not the hireling of some unscrupulous treasure hunter, Sully is left with a curious case. Nate bolted from God knows where, made his way to Columbia, and there isn’t a mother or father calling the authorities to find him; he’s just a kid with an uncanny knack for thievery.

“Sure,” Sully waves it off. “Well, tracking down this treasure’s going to take a lot more talent than the two of us, kid. I am serious about teaching you a thing or two about the trade.”

“Are you sticking around now that you’re not working for that lady?”

Sully can’t fathom how Nate got here in the first place. It wouldn’t surprise him if the kid didn’t have a way back.

“Are _you_? You got what you came for, more or less. I can give you a lift back to the States.”

“I’ve got a ride.”

_Fine. If the kid wants to keep lying, so be it._ Sully can’t say he’s surprised; it’s what he would have done at that age.

He waves the bartender down for a pen. Writing his phone number on the napkin, “If Marlowe gives you any more trouble, give me a call.”

Nate very reluctantly pockets the napkin.

Sully pays the tab at the bar; leaving money on the table would give Nate the opportunity to nab it for himself. They walk out to the street and Sully pulls out a handful of folded bills.

“I can take care of myself,” Nate protests.

“Don’t be so goddamn proud and take the money,” Sully says irritably.

Nate glares but snatches the money, pocketing it away with the napkin.

Sully lights a new cigar and watches the kid slip into a dark alley, then walks the other way. By all accounts, that should have been the last he saw of the kid posing as Drake’s descendant.

Sully stumbles back into his place, not drunk exactly, but certainly not sober when the phone rings months later. He should have let the answering machine pick it up, but the ringing is goddamn annoying.

“Sullivan.”

“Hey, it’s Nathan. Nathan Drake.” The kid sounds nervous.

“Christ.”

“I’ve only got a minute, but I got pinched and can’t make bail.”

Sully shouldn’t have gone so soft, but then Marlowe shouldn’t have hit the kid. An open palm doesn’t hurt as much as his father’s belt, but a blow is a blow all the same.

He downs as much black coffee as he can handle and sets off back to Columbia.

However rough Nate looked when they met, the two months have only made it worse. “You look like shit.”

Nate squares his shoulders and walks hurriedly past, but Sully could swear he mumbles ‘thanks’.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Sully calls out to Nate’s retreating back.

“Dunno, but not prison.”

“If you think I’m cutting you loose – think again. At the rate you’re going, you’re gonna wind up dead.”

That stops the kid in his tracks, “Why do you care?”

It’s not going to do either of them any good to answer that.

“It’d be a shame if we didn’t figure out what Drake was up to for those six months.”

It works. Nate’s eyes go wide when he sees the plane.

“You own this?” he leans forward, looking closely at the dashboard.

“Yes. Don’t touch anything.”

Back home, Nate stands in the doorway, unsure what to do.

“It’s no hotel, but it’s a damn sight better than where you were.” Sully gestures to the couch, “This ain’t too bad to sleep on.”

Nate eats the frozen pizza so fast, Sully thinks he’s going to make himself sick, but instead he falls asleep on the couch in minutes.

Sully really hopes he doesn’t live to regret this.

\----------

Pounding on the front door is never a good omen. Landlords, the cops, angry women: they all tend to have the same effect.

Sully’s mostly kept his nose clean since taking in the kid; he’s baffled who this could be. He can only make out the back of a skinny guy through the peephole. He opens the door with caution.

“Can I help you?”

The young man pushes his way in, “Where the hell is he?”

Nate runs in on the scene and the family resemblance is immediately undeniable.

“Sam, it’s cool. Don’t worry about it.”

“This was your ride I take it?” Sully says sardonically.

Nate’s brother glares at him, “Stay out of this, it’s none of your business.”

Sully snorts, “Fat chance, you barged into my house. And this very much became my business when you left a kid on the streets and let him wind up in prison.”

Nate’s brother has no response. He sits down at the table like his knees are giving out under him and lights up a cigarette. Getting a better look at him, Sully’d guess he’s barely old enough to buy a drink. He’s certainly not old enough to be raising Nate right.

“By all means, make yourself at home,” Sully rolls his eyes, sitting opposite him and reaching for a box of cigars. “Victor Sullivan,” he introduces himself but doesn’t extend a hand. “Sam Drake?”

Sam grunts in the affirmative.

“I was doing fine by the way, not that you two care,” Nate butts in indignantly.

“Sure,” Sully and Sam say in doubtful unison. An uncomfortable beat of silence falls between them.

Nate throws himself down on the couch. Pulling the string over his head, “And I got the ring.”

“No shit.” It’s the first non-surly thing Sam’s said since his arrival.

Nate tosses the ring his brother’s direction. “Sully helped.”

When Sam glances in Sully’s direction, he forgets to glare, a step in some direction.

While Sam studies the ring, Nate doodles something just out of Sully’s sight. The kid’s got an eye, too bad he can’t go anywhere with it.

Sam finally tears his eyes away from the ring. Mumbling, “Thanks for looking out for Nathan.”

“About goddamn time.”

“He’s got contacts, maybe he could line up a job for us,” Nate presses.

“I don’t think we should impose any longer on Sullivan. Besides, I’ve already got my next gig lined up.”

Sully doesn’t miss Sam’s deflection. It’s admirable, if misguided how he looks out for Nate. Sully won’t kid himself he can do much better, but Nate needs a better moderating hand than what he’s got. It just isn’t going to be Sully.

Sam waves a hand, “Pack your stuff, we’re going.”

Nate looks to Sully, Sully nods. “It might be time for you to move on.”

It doesn’t take long for Nate to shove his things into his backpack. Sully and Sam stand at opposite sides of the room.

“Well, I’ll see you around,” Nate says, staring at the floor.

“You know where I live. Don’t be a stranger.”

Nate nods.

Sam’s already out the door when Sully catches Nate’s shoulder. “And keep an eye on your brother.”

Nate gives him a puzzled look. God help him, the kid can’t imagine his brother letting him down.

Sully sighs, resigned. “I’ll let you know if anything promising comes up.”

“Thanks, Sully.”

It’s quiet without Nate around; Sully admits it’ll take some getting used to.

A piece of loose leaf sticks up from between the couch cushions; Sully pries it out. The doodle is two figures at a table, clouds of smoke for heads.

Sully chuckles. _It’s pretty goddamn funny._

\----------

Nate brought them together on this job, despite Sully’s reservations. The last time he’d worked with both of the Drake boys, he came away limping for a week. He’d rather not repeat that.

“You can’t vote; you shouldn’t be organizing heists like this,” Sam argues.

“I could if – wait, neither can you, jackass,” Nate counters.

“Boys, boys, I’m going to need more information if you’re gonna drag an old man like me into this.”

To Nate’s credit, he’s done his homework to Sully’s satisfaction. Sam waves his hand in agreement. No amount of planning ever accounts for a car chase though.

And of course there was a girl involved.

Sully is still up, scanning the ham radio for police activity; Sam at least feigning sleep.

Nate slips back into the motel room with the stupidest grin on his face. The kid’s got absolutely no poker face, Sully’s glad he hasn’t wasted his time trying to teach him how to play.

“Good evening?” Sully asks conversationally.

“Mmhm,” Nate quickly disappears into the bathroom, running the tap.

“How’s what’s-her-name? Tara?”

Nate stops short, glass of water in hand. “Oh… you know.”

Sully roars with laughter as Nate collapses into a chair at the table.

Sam bolts upright, “Jesus, some of us are trying to sleep.”

Grinning, “Yeah and your brother just had sex.”

“Oh my God, Sully,” Nate groans.

“Congratulations,” Sam reaches over and attempts to shove an errant cigarette in Nate’s mouth; Nate bats it away.

Despite his embarrassment, Nate looks far too pleased with himself.

“You took care of her first, I hope.”

Nate chuckles nervously, taking a sip of water. “Sully, we had _sex_.”

Sully shakes his head, “That doesn’t mean a goddamn thing. You wanna do it right? Going down on the lady is a guarantee almost every time.”

Nate spits; Sully dodges the spray. Sam lets out a contrary for contrary’s sake snort.

Sully turns on him, “Running your mouth as much as you do, you’d think you’d be better at it. But that’s why they don’t call back.”

It’s Nate’s turn to cackle. Sam kicks the chair legs out from under his brother; Nate catches himself on the edge of the bedside table.

_How did_ this _turn into my evening?_

Realizing how young Nate still is, he says soberly, “And for christssake, use rubbers.”

“Victor’s right.”

_Apparently, Sam isn’t as dumb as he looks._

“I’m sorry, did hell freeze over?” Nate asks incredulously.

“You want me taking care of your ill-begotten kids?” Sully jerks his thumb in Sam’s direction, “Or him?”

“Screw you.”

Sully ignores Sam.

“Okay, okay, I get your point,” Nate says hastily, ready for the conversation to be over as much as any of them.

Sully thumps Nate hard on the back, “And now your head’s clear, you can focus on tomorrow. How the hell are we getting out of this city?”

\----------

_What’s done is done._

Sully waits for the hammer to fall. He hadn’t made a secret of what bar he’d be at, it’s only a matter of time before they track him down.

Sure enough, the door slams open. All the other patrons turn and stare; Sully remains focused on his whiskey.

“Thanks a lot, jackass,” Sam calls out from behind him.

“Hey!” the bartender snaps his fingers. “Fights outside!”

“I’ll take another when I’m back,” Sully signals. “And a pint of whatever’s on tap.”

He stands and turns to face an irate Sam and a frustrated Nate in his shadow.

“Boys,” Sully gestures to the door to the alley patio.

“Do not even start with me, Sullivan,” Sam says through gritted teeth, but both Drakes proceed to the door.

Outside, Sully takes a sip of his drink while Sam collects himself. Nate’s hands are buried deep in his pockets, casting looks between Sully and his brother.

“Imagine my surprise when I go to look for a particular piece and it’s nowhere to be found,” Sam begins. “So I have to go to my guy and beg forgiveness, but he’s all good because guess what? He’s already got it! Victor Sullivan sold it to him!”

“Guess you gotta be faster on the draw,” Sully says dryly.

“That was supposed to be _our_ break!”

_There it is; ready to drag Nate into his bullcrap._

Nate may be miles smarter than any of them, but he is so goddamn stupid when it comes to his brother. Sam can talk a good game, but there are limits he exceeds nearly every time.

Unfortunately, Sully can’t shake either of them enough to see that, “You were in _way_ over your head with these people.”

“Don’t act like you were doing us a favor, okay?” Still irritated, he turns to his brother, “Care to chime in at all, Nathan? Or do you agree with Sullivan?”

Nate half shrugs, heart not in the argument. “We can handle ourselves, Sully. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

“Orlov would have let you both take the fall.” Sarcastically, “I get it, rent’s cheaper in prison.”

Sam tsks. “Isn’t it lucky your conscience got your pockets well-lined?” With that, he stalks off.

“Sam! Come on!” Nate yells at his brother’s retreating back, but doesn’t follow.

Sully may be a couple drinks in, but his eyesight isn’t so fuzzy he can’t see Sam flipping them off.

“Come on, there’s a round inside waiting for us,” Sully gestures.

They don’t toast to anything. Nate does more staring at his pint than drinking.

“Kid, I didn’t have them leave a prize at the bottom. It’s just beer.”

“He’ll get over it,” Nate says abruptly.

Sully raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “He didn’t get a lot of ‘plays well with others’ in kindergarten, did he?”

Nate chuckles, “Sully, none of us did.”

_The kid has a point there._

“Well, until he cools his heels, I’ve got something lined up.”

“Orolov?”

“No.”

“Three-person job?”

“Two-person.”

Nate stops considering his drink, draining it quickly, then ordering another.

“I’m in,” he raises his new glass.

Sully’ll toast to that.

\----------

It’s been a few months since they last saw each other; a few weeks since their last innocuous phone call. They do not talk about Nate coming back from Panama with no tan. They do not talk about Nate’s bender that left him with a four-day hangover.

It’s what the kid wants and Sully will oblige.

He had his drink to the departed, thinking on those funerals at sea he stood for during the war, so many of them Sam’s age. Sully’d been against the Panamanian expedition to begin with, but he won’t say Sam got what was coming.

Sully waits for Nate at a restaurant overlooking the Aegean Sea, contentedly puffing at his cigar when he spots the kid: Nate’s arm is snaked around a woman’s waist.

_Good. Nate could use the distraction._

“Nate, I thought the point of meeting was to go get us something pretty. You got a leg up.”

The woman cackles. If it’s sympathy or genuine amusement, either way, Sully’s won.

“Sully, this is Chloe. Chloe, Sully.”

Sully extends a hand. “The kid can’t do a proper introduction to save his life. Victor Sullivan.”

Chloe’s handshake is firm, “Chloe Frazer and don’t I know it. What can I say; he was swayed by my gun to his head.”

“The back of my head is very charming,” Nate says as they sit. _Well, whatever gets the kid going._

“You in Greece only for pleasure?” Sully asks conversationally.

“Business. I’m your driver. And I expect a good cut as a third partner.”

“A lady who drives a hard bargain.”

From the corner of his eye, Sully catches Nate smirking.

“I know my worth.”

Chloe wanders up to the bar. There’s no missing where Nate’s gaze is.

“I like her,” Sully says casually. “A little heads up would have been nice though.”

“We ran into each other on the way, it just sort of happened.”

Knowingly, “You’re not going to be distracted, are you?”

“What?” Nate tears his eyes away. “No, I’m good. Actually, I kind of really need the money.”

Sully sighs, “Goddamn it, Nate, who’d you mess with?”

Nate throws his hands up. “No one, I swear! I’m just looking to get my own place after this job.”

This is news, but not the bad kind.

“Whereabouts? I might know a person or two –”

“In Florida.”

“What the hell do you want to go to Florida for? There’s culture and people and food in New Orleans. Florida is just a swamp.” Sully gestures to the air.

“I can afford it.”

“At least I taught you that much. Does this mean you’ll get your crap out of my house?”

Nate chuckles, “Eventually.”

Sully mutters, “Guess I’ll be dead in the ground before that happens.”

He realizes what he’s said too late. Nate’s expression is unreadable. Sully mentally kicks himself, but maybe Nate will be a poker player yet.

“Florida, though,” Sully tries to recover the conversation as Chloe returns with drinks.

“Awful, right?” Chloe chimes in. “Even by American standards, I’ve heard.”

“It’s warm and there are beaches! And it’s warm,” Nate repeats himself.

“So are a lot of places in the world,” Sully points out, but doesn’t argue further.

Nate’s moving on. That’s a good thing.

\----------

The bruise from the bullet is going to leave Sully sore for a good while. Even swatting at the flies buzzing around his head hurts. It’s why he’s been nursing his coffee for so long.

That and there’s still no sign of Nate and the girl.

It’s of little surprise to Sully that the pair were on a tear to the resort bedroom without so much as a ‘goodnight’ to him. Sure, the girl isn’t Nate’s usual type, but he was clearly having a good time anyway.

“Ooo is there more where that came from?” her voice sounds from behind.

Sully jumps in his seat, “Are you trying to give an old man a heart attack?”

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes, joining him at the table. She’s far too chipper for someone who’s a newcomer to all this.

“S’alright, sweetheart. Besides I didn’t do myself any favors getting shot in the chest.”

Elena laughs, “No, you did no. How’s the breakfast around here?” She looks in the direction of the bar.

Sully snorts, “Breakfast? It’s lunchtime. Late lunch.”

“Oh,” Elena says in a small voice, going very pink.

“Where is Nate anyway?” Sully cranes his neck around.

“Uh, he was still asleep when I left the room,” she says, unable to make eye contact.

Sully doesn’t miss her fighting a smile – chewing on her lip. One night together did nothing to lessen her interest.

_Goddamn it._

Casually, “Good. He could probably use it.”

“Can we talk about anything else, please?”

“Certainly.”

But neither of them says anything; the unease palpable between them. She’s too clean-cut for all this – for Nate. Unfortunately for her, Sully is rarely wrong in his assessments.

“So you’ve known Nate awhile, yeah?” Elena breaks the silence.

“A few years, yeah.”

“Was he always this cocky?”

Sully chuckles, “Worse, if you can believe it.”

Elena lets out a small laugh, “Actually, yes I can. I get the sense you kind of need it in this line of work.”

“And you don’t miss a thing, which is necessary in yours,” Sully points out. She had their number far too quickly for Sully’s comfort.

Elena shrugs, but smiles. “Guilty as charged.”

Despite hours alone in the monastery together, they didn’t talk about much other than the likelihood of being trapped by Roman’s men. They didn’t talk about the likelihood of Nate’s survival or any harbored ill-will. Sully’s a bit overdue.

“No hard feelings about leaving you at the dock, right? I can’t say I was warm to the idea of bringing a civilian with us in the first place.”

Elena raises and eyebrow and folds her arms. “Is this you apologizing? Because you _suck_.”

Sully chortles, “You got me there, darling. Anyway, you did a damned good job holding your own. Color me impressed.”

She smiles, “Thanks Sully. Imagine how much better I’ll do on the next adventure.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her it’s probably beginner’s luck or that Nate rarely keeps a girl around for more than one job. Whatever Nate promised her in bed last night, he better let her down easy when he can’t deliver.

“I’m sure you’ll show us both up,” he says as gently as he can.

Elena orders her coffee.

Sully passes her his flask when it arrives, “Trust me, it’ll improve the flavor.”

She gamely pours a couple drams’ worth in her mug. “Okay, if I’m going to drink this much, we _have_ to get some food,” she insists.

Her Spanish is miles better than his, but she still makes a face when she finishes ordering. “I hope I ordered something decent.”

“It’ll be an adventure regardless,” Sully assures her.

But it’s delicious and they’re laughing over stories of botched ordering in foreign languages when Nate finally appears, sleepily rubbing his eyes against the late afternoon sun.

“Oh God Sully, what are you telling her about me?”

“Bit presumptuous to think you’ve come up at all,” Sully jokes.

“Only things I figured out myself,” Elena assures Nate with a slightly tipsy giggle. Nate reaches over to steal a forkful of Elena’s food. “Hey, get your own!”

Sully’s fast enough to pull his plate out of Nate’s reach. “You would steal from an old, injured man.”

“Absolutely.”

“Spend some of your own gold for once.”

Once Nate’s hunger is sated with his own order, Sully doesn’t miss Elena’s hand going for Nate’s forearm. He can’t see under the table what Nate’s free hand is doing, but Sully would bet it’s covering hers.

It’s strangely the most intimate gesture Sully’s ever seen Nate give anyone; not even all the shit he pulled with Chloe compares. Both of them will wind up hurt and Sully can’t do anything to stop it.

\----------

The jobs offer low rewards, but then they’re low risk too.

There are times Sully needs to stop to let Nate catch up to _him_ , still recuperating some from the gut shot. Nepal changed things a bit. After all, near-death experiences do funny things to a person’s head.

Sleeping together again was inevitable, or as they call it ‘dating’. Impromptu marriage proposals and phone calls throughout each job have less precedent. Frankly, Sully thought Elena was smart enough to know what’s going on here.

Sully handles the payment while Nate steps out to call Elena. The cash is in two even stacks when Nate returns.

“Liz agreed to be her maid of honor, so that’s who you’ll be walking with.”

“Walking with?”

Nate hits his forehead, “Oh yeah, I forgot to ask. You’re my best man.”

Sully snorts, “That’s quite the assumption and you know what happens when you assume. _You_ look like an ass. Let me check my calendar –”

Nate rolls his eyes, but Sully’s flattered.

“Yeah, of course I’m your man. Which one is Liz again?”

“The one who hates me.”

Sully chortles, “I can win her over. Rumor has it that the groomsmen are supposed to seduce the bridesmaids.”

Nate snorts disbelievingly, “You’re _so_ not her type.”

They’re not flying back until the morning so they enjoy a nightcap on a rooftop bar.

“Don’t you think you kids would be better off squirreling that money away rather than spending it on a party?”

“I can’t believe I’ve lived to see Victor Sullivan advocate fiscal responsibility over a good time,” Nate laughs.

“You just haven’t been paying attention, boyo.”

He won’t admit to it, but Sully worries. Ever since Nate called to say he proposed on a whim, old nagging doubts creep back in.

God, Nate is practically a son to him, but he’s not willfully blind to the kid’s faults; they’re too like his own – for the most part.

Sully looks skyward, the stars barely visibly through the city’s light pollution. He bites the bullet, “Are you sure about this kid?”

Nate scoffs, irritated. “Money is one thing, but I’m not taking relationship advice from you.”

_He used to. Kids grow up._ Sully exhales. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve been with more women than you and never asked a single one of them to marry me.”

Nate rolls his eyes and sips his beer. After a moment, the edge is gone. “Elena’s the only one I ever want to ask.”

_The kid really believes he’s in love._ Sully clears his throat, uncomfortable. It’s not often he and Nate discuss matters of the heart.

Christ, Sam’s name hasn’t come up once in ten years, as if he never existed.

But this is a damn sight better than what Sully might have had with his father if he ever managed to pull a stunt like Nate’s pulling.

“I’ve never had that, so I’d say you’re pretty damned lucky, kid.”

Nate hunches his shoulders in embarrassment.

Sully won’t bother him on that score any longer, even if it’s his prerogative. But it’s no less his prerogative to stand with this kid who has no one else.

Changing the subject for both their sakes, “How are the future in-laws?”

“You’ll do fine with them,” Nate reassures him. “You’re not the one marrying their daughter. They’re normal. Not everyone had a fisticuffs childhood.”

Sully chuckles to mask his wince. Nate doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll do what I can to get them on your team. Them and Liz.”

“Please leave Liz alone. She has a wife and I don’t want my wedding ruined because your nose was rightfully broken.”

“What’s a party without a little scuffle? Not a good one, that’s what.”

Sully makes a mental note to remove _that_ from the wedding to do list.

\----------

Getting in between two married people is something Sully avoids as a rule. Even sleeping with married women is usually too much of a hassle, not to say he didn’t do it in his younger, more foolish days.

But then again, he’s the one who tucked Nate’s wedding ring into his wallet, hoping maybe the kid would come to his senses on at least that score.

Broaching calling Elena was a risk, but considering the string of bad luck they’ve had, Sully would just as soon walk into Yemen without hostiles on their backs beyond Marlowe’s people.

Nate and Chloe are trying to make Charlie comfortable when Sully excuses himself, Nate casts nervous glances Sully’s way. Alone, Sully scrolls to Elena’s name in his address book, takes a deep breath, and hits dial.

It rings. And rings.

She’s probably busy, doing whatever do-gooder thing she does to counterbalance the shit they do. Sully will probably have to leave an incredibly awkward message and call her back.

And rings.

More likely she’s ignoring him. They were civil the last time they spoke, but he was privy to her terse discussion with Nate; her probing and his evasion.

“Hello?”

Sully exhales.

“Hey darling,” he says, falling into old habits.

“Hi Sully, how’s it going?” she says brightly. “Keeping out of trouble?”

Why he ever disliked her feels silly now.

Her proclivity for sticking her nose in other people’s business isn’t dissimilar to the average treasure hunter; she has connections no one in the business could boast. And it’s damned comforting to have a partner at your back who has no stakes beyond your own welfare.

“Doing what I can, doing what I can,” he laughs. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all! I was just sitting down to eat. What’s up?”

_No time like the present._

“It’s rude of me to be calling like this, but I need a favor. I was wondering if you had a clean way to get me and Nate into the city.”

There’s a long pause, but she hasn’t hung up the line. Finally, “Why?”

“Don’t you want plausible deniability?” Sully chuckles weakly.

“I’m a journalist, not a spy,” she replies, but it at least sounds like she could be smiling.

Elena, the foreign correspondent, doesn’t ask why two treasure hunters are looking for covert passage into an ancient city. Elena, the estranged wife, doesn’t ask what he’s been doing with her uncommunicative husband.

Instead, she makes a demand. “Whatever you two are up to, don’t bring guns with you. I’m not losing my job and reputation for smuggling firearms.”

“Elena, I promise. This is why I called; we were looking for a gun-free entry.”

“Did he put you up to this?” she asks, strain creeping into her voice for the first time in the conversation. Before Sully can answer, she hastily retreats, “Never mind. Plausible deniability. Right.”

Sully doesn’t know what to say, so he says the truth, “Thank you, Elena. I owe you one.”

“No you don’t.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you, Elena.”

“Looking forward to seeing you too, Sully.”

The line clicks off.

The whole flight to Yemen, Sully is even more aware of his wallet pressing against his leg.

\----------

Nate and Elena talk a good game about the housing values and Nate’s job, but they’re both full of crap. They picked New Orleans for his sake. Sully’s a little flattered, but mostly feels patronized.

Freshly returned from Belize, he and Nate go out one evening when Elena’s friends are in town.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere any time soon,” he grouses to Nate.

“No one said anything about that,” Nate replies indignantly. “I wanted to come here for the culture.”

Sully scoffs. “Culture. No one lets you smoke indoors anymore, how’s that for culture?”

“It’s been like that everywhere since the nineties, Sully. Catch up.”

“Patricia and Jim didn’t put in their bid for you kids to go to Colorado? They seem like the types who’d want Elena around.”

“Too cold up there. Besides, Elena’s dealer cousin tried to get me to smoke weed last Thanksgiving and I can’t get into the stuff. Colorado would be a _terrible_ fit for me.”

Sully chuckles, “You’re way too clean cut, you know that? But at least you’re not a damn hippie.”

Nate gives him a light tap, “Think of all the lighter fluid you’re going to save without me hanging around.”

“Don’t I know it. Drugstores exist for a reason, kid. You could have bought a couple BICs over the years.”

Sully can’t bring himself to say it, but he already feels Nate’s absence on jobs. He can talk a good game about being too old, but there’s a small part of him that really believes his best years might be still to come.

It’ll take something really spectacular to get him to give it all up. Nate’s found his something, and Sully has no problem admitting Elena’s the best thing the kid’s got.

Without the weight of Drake’s ring around his neck, there was a peace about them both in Yemen. Nate was ready; he’s done more than most get in ten lifetimes, best to leave it on a good note. And even more surprising, civilian life is suiting him.

“Elena told me the new job seems to be going well. I heard down the grapevine Jameson’s got a good eye. Could have been in our line of work.”

“Yeah,” Nate says, distracted.

It’s hard to miss the kid is quieter as they finish their drinks.

“It was an early call this morning and I’m beat,” Nate finally confesses. “There’s a reason I didn’t go out with Elena. I cannot keep up with them.”

“Son, are you finally too old for that shit?”

“ _Way_ too old,” Nate laughs, flagging down the bartender. He snaps the bill away from Sully, sticking his credit card in. “I think I owe you for a few.”

“And you moved to New Orleans to pay off your excess tab.”

“That’s exactly what I told Elena. Although drinking as much as you do, I think we’ll be square pretty quick.”

They both get a good chuckle out of it. They put out their arms for an embrace in the parking lot.

Nate’s about to get into his car when he hits his forehead with his palm, “Oh crap, you didn’t tell me how your trip went! You’ll have to catch me up next time!”

“Looking forward to it!” Sully waves him goodbye.

\----------

Elena’s put some distance between herself and the motel in just a few moments.

Sully has to run to catch up. Calling out, “Darling, slow down.”

Elena glances over her shoulder. She doesn’t stop, but her stride shortens. When he finally catches up to her, she’s furiously wiping tears from her eyes. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?”

“His _excuses_ ,” she stops short.

“I’m not here to give them, just make sure you don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Elena snorts incredulously. “Too late, I’ve already got plenty of them.”

Sully remains silent as Elena fights a fresh wave of tears. Sully saw Nate’s face every time he was hung up on her: the kid’s got his fair share of regrets too. The difference is Nate buries his inside; Sully can only hope Elena can move on.

Sully would never count himself disappointed in Nate, but tonight was cowardice, plain and simple. Sully cannot abide it.

“Come on,” he puts a hand on Elena’s shoulder. “Let’s take a walk.”

Elena sniffles loudly. “My flight’s first thing, I don’t want to –”

“Cancel it. I’ll take you wherever you want, no questions asked.”

Elena doesn’t object and they walk in silence; Sully lets her lead. Walking without aim or purpose, they find themselves overlooking the bay, so much quieter than the day’s chase. The breeze off the water is warm, but Elena hugs herself against it.

“There’ll be a storm blowing in any day,” Sully says aimlessly. Elena doesn’t respond.

He’s said it before, but it bears repeating. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more of a warning. I’m sorry you didn’t know.”

Elena shakes her head, voice raw from the crying, “You did the right thing. I needed to hear it from – is it weird I wish the brother thing was a lie too?”

She practically spits the word ‘brother’. Sully won’t claim expertise on what’s said in the marriage bed, but if Nate told anyone in the world he has – had a dead brother, Christ, it should have been Elena.

“Yeah, Sam,” Sully sighs, glancing at the heavens. “I sort of wished it was a lie when I met that hooligan too.”

It’s hard to miss Elena’s newly intense focus on him; Sully’s about to say more than her husband’s ever given her. It’s damned awkward.

“How long have you known?”

“Since the Marlowe days.”

“Did anybody else?”

Sully’s shoulders slump at the accusation in her tone. “Old partners who either are dead or hate us – Or both. Charlie Cutter ran a couple jobs with him, I think, but that’s about it.”

No one important; no one the kid’s married to.

“That’s the thing though, when you’re young and unestablished, people fall off the face of the earth in our line of work all the time. You die; you get locked up in some foreign prison so you might as well be dead – no one’s gonna miss you – it’s just business. That’s what we tell ourselves, anyway.”

Except someone was missing Sam Drake though, beyond measure.

Elena’s hanging on his every word, but she’s already said it. Sully isn’t the person to tell her all this. God knows when the next time she’ll speak to _him_ will be.

Lamely, “Fifteen years in prison is a _long_ time, Elena.”

Dully, “And now he owes someone in Panama: a great excuse to go hunting for buried treasure.”

He sighs. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I get where Sam’s coming from. Having a price on your head’s scary. Did that once; don’t recommend it.”

Elena cracks her first smile of the evening. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“Got left for dead too. But Nate –”

There’s a cold rush down Sully’s spine in realization. Nate could keep himself at arm’s length from treasure by avoiding his calls, by locking himself away in the attic, but the second Sam walked through the door, the house of cards collapsed in an instant.

At the mention of his name, Elena’s face falls. She goes back to fiddling with her wedding ring. Sully knows this much: Elena’s not Nate. The ring comes off, it stays off.

Changing the subject, “What do you want to do, Elena?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. “I think… I want to go home. I want to change the locks, I want to –” she laughs bitterly and doesn’t finish the thought.

Sully takes a deep breath, “Well, let’s sleep on it. I won’t be able to fuel the plane until the morning anyway.”

Elena nods. They check into separate rooms at another motel. He’s caught by surprise when Elena hugs him, arms awkwardly pinned and unable to reach.

She doesn’t need him the way Nate does, not by a mile, but Sully can’t help but imagine her as the daughter he never had. Some people swear by the particular nature of fathers and daughters, but she hasn’t given him even a fraction of the grief Nate has.

“Thank you, Sully.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says gruffly.

She lets go and inhales sharply, “This would be so much easier if I didn’t love him.”

“I know, darling.”

Sully manages to fall asleep eventually. There’s a pounding on the door early, the sky barely lit with pre-dawn light.

Elena stands there dressed, ring still on, “We have to go after them.”

\----------

It’s an uneasy truce, but a truce all the same. Sully doesn’t call Sam out on all the lies, Sam doesn’t openly balk at playing second fiddle on the job. They’re oddly cordial, as if this is their first acquaintance with each other.

They exchange gunfire with rival fencers after de Gama’s hoard, which ends in them running then wheezing in a back alley. Sam manages to get control of his coughing first, thumping Sully hard on the back.

Regaining his breath, Sully chuckles weakly, “Boy, if Nate were here, we’d be getting an earful about now.”

“Three days. I was back three days and he was already giving me crap. But where would that dummy be without our lights?”

“Better off probably,” Sully says thoughtlessly.

Sam purses his lips and doesn’t say anything right away. “Come on, we gotta move before our friends catch up.”

They regroup at their hotel, pouring over maps of possible gold locations.

Sully leans back in his seat, contemplating his glass of whiskey. “Can I ask you a question?”

Sam looks up, eyebrow raised, “Isn’t that already one?”

“Yeah, yeah. Smartass.”

Sam sits upright, arms crossed. “You can ask, I make no promises.”

There are enough questions to fill a lifetime, but one in particular nags at Sully. “Why’d you wait two years?”

Sam lets out a low whistle, “Christ, you’re not letting me off the hook are you?”

“Afraid not.”

Two years would have made such a difference. Sure, Rafe would still be on their heels, but it’d be one less lie. They’d all be younger. Nate’s grief would be lessened.

Then again, everything could have been exactly the same. Same lie about owing a dead man a colony’s treasury; same near disaster for Nate and Elena’s marriage. Nate’s grief would be greater.

“Trust me, I didn’t want to stick around with Rafe any longer than I had to,” Sam rubs the still-healing wound.

Sully clucks, “I warned you boys all those years ago he was trouble.”

“Yes, congratulations on being right,” Sam rolls his eyes. “But I had to take that psycho fucker for all he was worth.”

He gestures for the bottle, Sully passes it. Sam refills his glass but doesn’t take a drink.

“And I was mad at Nathan, I suppose. Mad for not getting me out. For finding El Dorado and all the rest. If I showed up at his door with Avery’s gold by myself, maybe the thirteen years would have been worth it.”

“Pride goeth before the fall,” Sully says absently.

“What, are you my priest now, Victor?” Sam snorts. “Because you’re lousy at it.”

Sully laughs, “Your shrink, then.”

“Even worse.”

Sully leans forward, “I just want to make sure you have your story straight when you tell Nate this time. No more bullshit. Nothing but the truth.”

Sam finally takes a swig. “Why do you think I’m here sharing a hotel with you instead of crashing on his couch?”

Even a few years ago Sully might have debated saying anything, but it’s been a strange, eventful few weeks.

“Nate’d never admit to it, but losing you really messed him up. He never stopped blaming himself.”

“We’re Catholic, Victor. Guilt is kind of a natural habitat.”

“Never heard of that,” Sully says dryly.

Sam clears his throat, “It’s good you were there though. I appreciate it.”

It’s the oddest sensation. Sully feels those lapsed fifteen years for himself, but it’s like Sam frozen – despite the obvious aging. And yet more unites now than used to divide them.

They’re two men who want to let the memories of their lousy fathers rest in peace. They want to prove the end isn’t quite in sight for them.

And all they’ve ever wanted was the best for Nate. Thankfully, he’s in Elena’s much more capable hands now.

Sully reaches into his shirt pocket for the two cigars he’d been saving for a successful job. He passes one to Sam, who looks genuinely surprised.

“You’re not a bad guy to have in your corner, Sam.”

“You too, Victor.”

They’re only halfway done with their cigars when the hotel management comes in and yells at them in rapid Portuguese.

“No smoking, _apparently_. We’re getting kicked out and we’re not getting a refund,” Sam explains as they’re glowered at.

“Goddamn it,” Sully mutters.

“Not a word of this to Nathan.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Their next base is a much seedier establishment, but at least they can smoke indoors.

\----------

There’s an open invitation for Sully every Thanksgiving. He usually declines. Elena’s folks are fine, but there’s a reason Sully’s skipped on the domestic life.

God help them, they’ve invited Sam this year.

“You’ll be there, right?” Sam asks, all nerves. “It’d be a big favor to me.”

Sully snorts, “I’ll go – as a favor to Elena.”

“Fair enough.”

They sit in the car outside the Fishers’ house, Sam clearly fighting the urge to reach for the pack in his pocket. Sully turns around to grab a bag out of the backseat.

“I mean, what the hell do you even do at these things?”

Sully sighs, “You don’t bring up religion, you don’t bring up politics, you _do not_ bring up what you do for a living.”

It’s a goddamn miracle Sam doesn’t give a shit about American politics, and thankfully his Catholicism is more of the superstitious variety than conversion. Unfortunately, everyone else’s tamest topic is one of Sam’s most volatile.

“I’m hearing a lot don’ts, Victor. What did Nathan say he did?”

“Something with archeology.”

“And you?”

“Art dealer. Buck up, boy, all you have to do is get drunk enough so the next six hours go a little faster.” Sully hands him a bottle. “Always show up with a hostess gift.”

“Really, I gotta give them the white?” Sam gestures to the bottle of red in Sully’s hands.

Sully rolls his eyes. “Grow up, it’s a nice wine.”

Sam’s still fidgeting with his collar when Elena’s mother opens the door, inevitably drawing more attention to the tattoo.

“Patricia! Lovely to see you again!”

Patricia tears her eyes away, “Victor, glad you could make it. And you must be Nate’s brother.”

“Yes ma’am. Sam Drake.”

“You can just call me Patricia.”

“Oh and this is for you.” Sam practically shoves the bottle into her hands. It’s like he’s never had a human interaction before.

Patricia is slightly dazed, “Thank you. Well, come in, I think most everyone’s watching the game; there’s some appetizers out and beer’s on the back porch.”

“I’ll take the wine to the kitchen for you,” Sully offers Patricia, pointing Sam in the direction of the TV. If he’s going to be dealing with this all night, he needs a minute.

Elena’s in the kitchen alone, refilling a platter of food. Though she greets Sully with a hug and a kiss, she is uncharacteristically harried.

“I’ll take that,” she gestures for the red wine, pouring a generous single glass, downing it, then refilling it.

“You and Sam need to relax,” Sully observes, sticking the white in the fridge.

“I know,” Elena winces. “I just really wish my parents had taken Sam’s no as an answer.” Looking around to see that no one else is within earshot, “Is it so terrible I wish he was still a secret? I love him like a brother, don’t get me wrong, but –”

Sully puts his hands on Elena’s shoulders to steady her. “Darlin’ you’re talking to me. _I know_. Believe me, it’ll be okay, even though the pair of you are giving me agita right now. I’m here to eat some nice turkey, drink a couple beers, and pretend I give a shit about football.”

Elena lets out a nervous giggle, “You’re in good company. I think Nate cracked open his first when the dog show started.”

Sully finds Nate and Sam huddled in a corner with their drinks while the rest of the Fishers roar at the TV. Sam has a deer in the headlights look about him, but at least Nate’s glazed stare looks more like boredom.

Beer in hand, Sully toasts with them, “Just keep playing along boys.”

The day remains uneventful until everyone starts shoveling seconds onto their plates when an aunt leans over to Sam. “It’s a shame you didn’t make it to the wedding, it was a lovely ceremony.”

Nate misses the comment, but Elena glances across the table at Sully, eyes wide. Sully braces for impact.

Sam chuckles nervously, “Yeah, it’s not exactly like there’s time out from prison, you know?”

Elena’s aunt’s ‘oh’ of surprise is drowned out by the rattle of someone bumping the table and an ‘ow!’ from Nate. Elena must have kicked him under the table.

“What did you do time for?” one of Elena’s younger cousins asks too eagerly.

Sully’s sure he’s the one who deals reefer on the side – the little punk. His parents shush him, but it doesn’t stop Sam.

“Uh, it was kind of a mix-up actually. Would’ve needed a lawyer to sort it out, but who can afford them?”

Sully exhales. Insulting lawyers when there might be a retired one at the table isn’t great, but it is a decent deflection. If only it had ended there.

But Sam continues, “Mind you, prison isn’t as bad as picking a fistfight over in India right now, let me tell you.”

Any other conversations at the table stops. Patricia coughs.

“But the US isn’t sending anyone over there,” another cousin points out.

“Yeah, well, you go over there for a job and then someone’s basically kicking your teeth in.”

Sam just doesn’t know when to stop.

“What is it you do _exactly_?” Jim Fisher asks with eyes narrowed.

Sam glances at Sully. “Art dealer,” he says with a straight face.

“Hey Sam, I was thinking about grabbing some more beer,” Nate interjects, unable to finish his previous one fast enough.

“I’ll join you.”

The pair bolt.

One of the aunts raises her eyebrows in Jim and Patricia’s direction, “Thank goodness that isn’t _our_ family.”

“Actually, it kind of is,” Elena says tersely.

She puts her head on her hands for a split second, then regroups. The conversation changes course; Sully mouths ‘sorry’ her direction. That went about as well as could be expected.

Nate doesn’t reappear until dessert; Sam doesn’t come back in at all. When the party begins to break up, Elena excuses herself to start on dishes.

“I’ll give you a hand,” Sully offers. He can’t do much beyond dry, but it’s the least he can do.

“I don’t think that could have gone any worse,” Elena sighs.

“Come on darling, you know it could have gone a million times worse,” Sully chuckles.

Elena laughs weakly, “I would have done _anything_ for reanimated Spaniards to burst in the front door.”

They both burst into further laughter just as Nate walks in, shaking his head, “I’m glad some of us thought tonight was funny.” Hands to Elena’s hips, “Hon, I’ll do this, you should be saying goodnight to people, not me.”

Elena stands on her toes to give Nate a kiss as he plunges his hands into the dishwater.

“I think you owe Sam a thank you for tonight,” Sully smirks.

Nate makes a face, “You’re hilarious Sully.”

“I’m serious, kid. You look like a saint to Patricia and Jim now.”

Nate snorts, but grins.

Sam slips in, head low, checking that the coast is clear.

“Well that’s one pack gone,” he chucks the box into the trash.

“Good. Putting yourself into an early grave so I don’t have to,” Nate says sarcastically.

Of course, Nate immediately ignored Sully’s advice. Sam bites his tongue at his brother’s comment.

“What’d you do with all the butts?” Sully asks.

“Oh shit,” Sam mutters, dashing back for the porch.

Sully stares at the ceiling and sighs, “Tell your in-laws I’ll think about coming next year if he’s not invited.”

Wielding a soapy spoon, Nate nods. “You and me both.”

\----------

When he first visits Cassandra and her parents in the hospital, he lies, “That’s a good-looking girl you’ve got there.”

She’s wrinkled and red and making an awful racket, but that could describe him after a bad sunburn. It’s what you’re supposed to say to new parents.

“Right?” Nate practically sighs, no bullshit. Both he and Elena are too enamored to notice Sully isn’t completely sincere.

Even Sam isn’t full of crap when he says practically the same thing, choked up, barely able to speak. It must be a biological thing: kin recognizing kin.

“I’ve got a good Cuban I’ll smoke in her honor,” Sully says.

He knows Nate and Elena would rather he not, but they smile indulgently.

“You got one for me, Victor?” Sam asks.

“I thought you were on the patch.”

Sam scowls.

They invite Sully over for dinner after Elena’s parents leave town. And by dinner, they mean late lunch. And by invite over, they mean Sully picks up takeout.

He averts his eyes as best he can when Elena opens her shirt in the middle of the living room to nurse.

She laughs, “It’s sweet you’re trying, but since I gave birth, I don’t give a shit.”

Nate’s brow furrows in thought, “Have you held her yet, Sully?”

“Oh no, that’s fine,” Sully tries to beg off unsuccessfully as Elena finishes up.

“Come on Cassie, go to Grandad Sully,” Elena says.

Sully snorts. “Hey, don’t make me older than I already am.”

_Don’t give me a title I didn’t earn._

“Uncle Sully, then,” Nate says as Elena passes the baby to Sully’s tentative hands.

Sully is sixty-eight years old and he might be in love for the first time. Maybe. It’s difficult to tell. His heart has never been fuller, but he’s having a goddamn hard time saying it, that’s for sure.

“Is she glaring at me? She’s glaring at me,” Sully observes.

“Yeah, holding her like that,” Nate says in his know-it-all tone. He adjusts Cassie for Sully as Elena laughs.

“You and Sam are damned lucky I didn’t pick you off the street any younger or you’d be even more of a mess.”

“I turned out fine, thanks,” Nate protests.

“Jury’s still out on that,” Sully says as the baby starts to fuss. As quickly as he can, he passes her back to Elena before and incredible amount of vomit comes out of her.

“Crap,” Elena moans, covered in spit. “Well, that’s the fourth shirt today.”

Elena leaves to change; Nate is so wrapped up in Cassie, Sully might as well not be there.

Sully isn’t a church-going kind of guy, but it is a godsend Nate has taken to fatherhood like water, despite the lack of ideal models or perhaps in spite of. Sully knows in his bones there’s nothing Nate wouldn’t do for Cassie.

Weirdly, he feels the same way, but he’ll be damned if he knows how to do it. But he has to do something before she hits her teenage years because who knows if he’ll even be kicking then.

It’s not exactly a fortune sitting in his bank account, but it’s kept him more than comfortable over the years. He kind of hates dealing with banks but he moves a substantial amount to a savings account.

A quick search online relieves him the burden of having to talk to a lawyer, what he has to do only requires a public notary.

It all feels very official to sit down and put pen to paper. The last time he legally entangled himself like this, he was in a uniform the next day.

_I, Victor Sullivan, being of sound mind and body do hereby leave my fortune and all my worldly goods to Cassandra Fisher-Drake, to be held in trust by her parents, Elena Fisher and Nathan Drake, until she is eighteen years of age._

At least that’s done. Sully sleeps a little easier at night. Whatever comes next, he’s eager to see.

\----------

Rain batters the windows, but Sully and Cassie are safe and dry indoors. It’s past five, but Sully can’t blame Nate and Elena camping out at the office until the storm’s blown by.

Kneeling at the coffee table, Cassie’s face is furrowed in concentration staring at the board. The dog chews her bone in contentment. Sully sits opposite them.

“Make a move while I’m still young please,” he gently teases Cassie.

He starts to reach for one of her pieces; Cassie swats his hand away.

“I’m getting there!” she retorts, irritated, fiddling with her new glasses. Carefully, she makes the move Sully was going to take for her. She’s twice as smart as Nate when Sully met him and at half the age. Sully couldn’t be more pleased.

“If you stop hitting me, I’ll show you how to play poker,” Sully offers. “That’s something I never taught your dad how to do.”

“Seriously?” Cassie’s eyes light up.

“Sure, I could use a retirement gig. You and I’ll partner up and take our hustle to Vegas.”

“We’ll come back and everyone will be surprised we’re millionaires!” Cassie throws up her hands to make the point.

It startles Vicky off the couch, pacing the room, now realizing she’s been cooped up the better part of the afternoon.

Sully really looks at Cassie, smiling and content; never had a reason to be anything but happy.

Why’d he suggest Vegas? He hates it there.

Sully doesn’t know what sentimentality’s come over him, why he should confess to his last great secret now. He just trusts her.

“Hey kiddo, can you keep a secret?”

Cassie’s smile wavers for a moment. “Sure I can, Uncle Sully.”

Of course she can keep a secret: she’s a Drake and they press secrets to their core.

“And I mean a secret from your folks, I don’t want them to worry.”

Cassie’s face falls completely, “What –”

She’s Elena Fisher’s daughter through and through, there’s no mistaking that.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. Have I ever lied to you?”

She shakes her head.

“If I told your mom and dad they’d do a lot of fussing and ‘but Sullys’, but you’ve never tried to make me feel too old,” he chuckles.

“What’s the secret?”

“You’re as impatient as your old man, you know that?” Sully grins.

Cassie smiles again, “Yep, I am.”

Sully leans down closer, conspiratorially. The dog sticks her face in his for a very slobbery lick.

“Get out of here, you damn dog,” Sully mutters, pushing her away.

“Come here, Vicky,” Cassie reaches her arms out, Vicky dutifully goes to her owner for neck scratches.

Sully continues, “I just want to you to know when I’m gone, all my money goes to you.”

Cassie opens her mouth, but Sully puts his hand up to stop her. “I’m not going anywhere any time soon, trust me. Everyone else can take care of themselves. I want to make sure I’ve taken care of you.”

So what if the windfall makes her a little spoiled. Sully’s childhood was rotten; the universe will balance it out with Cassie’s, it can’t really hurt. And there’s not a chance in hell Cassie’ll go bratty anyway.

“You’re awful quiet.”

“I… thank you, Uncle Sully,” she says in a small voice.

Sully swallows the lump in his throat. “You never have to say ‘thanks’ to me, Cassie.”

She leaps up from the floor and hugs him; they don’t break away for a minute. When they do, Sully shakes a warning finger at her. “But I am serious about not telling your parents.”

Cassie makes her face an exaggerated serious and gives a mock salute. “Yes, sir!”

At that moment, Nate and Elena walk in, a little wet, but not looking too drowned.

“It’s finally letting up out there,” Nate says wiping his face down with a towel as Cassie and Vicky bolt past, heading for the front door. “Hey, you better be cleaned up by dinner!” he calls after her.

“Kay!” she yells as the door slams shut.

“What was that about?” Elena asks Sully.

_Crap._ Of course she’s onto him already.

“Talking your daughter into joining the navy,” he replies casually.

“Not on my watch,” Nate laughs, drying his hair out.

Elena’s eyes are still narrowed but doesn’t press the subject any further.

And for her part, Cassie is an excellent keeper. Sully doesn’t hear a word.

\----------

One minute Sully’s standing in his kitchen, the next it’s as though the world’s gone dark.

He comes to in an all-white room. There’s a faint beeping and all sorts of things attached to him. It’s the last place Sully wanted to end up: a hospital.

“Goddamn it,” he rasps as a nurse comes out from behind the curtain.

“Good to see you up, Victor,” she says far too cheerily.

“Someone gonna tell me what the hell’s going on?” Sully asks, struggling to sit up. He feels fainter than when he climbs to the highest altitudes.

“Don’t tire yourself out,” the nurse urges, pushing him down way too easily. “Let me go get your son, he was on his phone when he wasn’t supposed to be.”

Sully’s mouth is dry and he tries to explain he doesn’t have a son, but things go dark again.

The light’s different when he wakes up again, unbelievably tired; like he slept for weeks. The nurse isn’t there, but he isn’t alone.

Cassie sits at the side of the bed, chin resting on the mattress. Elena stands on the opposite side, arms folded and facing the end of the bed. And there at the foot, are Nate and Sam, in the middle of a heated whispered conversation.

“You should have gotten to him sooner, maybe they could have caught the second one faster.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who decided to move to the other side of the earth. And Victor doesn’t need a minder.”

“You’re goddamn right,” Sully croaks. “Listen to your brother, Nate.”

All eyes are on him; Sully feels very, very weak. He hates it.

“Hey, welcome back,” Elena says, brushing the corners of her eyes.

“You look like hell, Victor. And uh – sorry about the ‘son’ thing. Had to fib about being relatives to get us extra visiting time.”

Sully waves a hand. _Whatever works._

Nate and Cassie remain silent. Nate collapses in the empty chair next to Cassie.

“You gave us a real scare there, Sully,” Nate says, somewhat faint.

“I’m sorry about that, son.”

“Don’t be.”

It’s hard to miss Cassie’s wide-eye staring. Sully reaches out, arms heavy and absently pats her hand. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m not dying today. It’ll be _years_ before you see that money.”

He meant it as a joke, but no one’s laughing.

“Sully, I thought that was a secret,” Cassie whispers, still completely audible to everyone else.

“What are you talking about?” Nate asks, looking back and forth between Sully and Cassie. Elena and Sam are similarly lost.

“Guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” Sully sighs, too tired to hide it anymore. Better it come from him. “I’ve got my will set up, it’s all in a trust for Cassie.”

“How long?” Elena asks.

Sully wrinkles his brow in thought. “I got it squared away right after she was born.”

“No, how long has Cassie known?”

“Since I was like six?” Cassie chimes in.

“She’s not a bad partner, real good for secrets.”

“Jesus, Victor,” Sam exhales, leaning against the wall.

“Just what every parent wants to hear,” Nate says, but wraps Cassie in a one-armed hug.

“Geez, apparently no one wants to humor me in my infirm state.”

That cracks smiles.

Sully tries to sit up, both Nate and Elena spring into action to help. More comfortable than before, Sully takes it all in.

He’s still here, and so are his kids.

**Author's Note:**

> Sully absolutely plays favorites; no one minds.


End file.
